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Sex And Cigarettes.

Updated on October 9, 2009

Sex and Cigarettes.



Cigarette smoulders...

been ignored for a while

all I can see is that

blaze in your eyes

when you stormed out in style.


Glasses in masses,

left empty and drained

icy with sweat,

as they squat on our table

reflecting my pain,

somewhere a Sax wails

a lonesome refrain.


The candle casts shadows...

but yours left with you

I'm alone in a booth

that was meant to hold two

Just me and my shadow

are all that remain

plus six shots of vodka

to cushion my pain.


My cigarette dies...

ashes hang in mid-air

just like our love

that I thought was still there

perhaps one more drink...

do I care...I don't dare...

fumbling in my pockets

to find taxi fare

for that long journey home

to a place we don't share.


My cigarette falls

to the floor.... suicidal

as again, and again

your words play a recital

of all the went wrong

with our love once so vital.


Then the cigarette's swept

from my side with a broom

by a waitress who leaves

a sweet trail of perfume

much the same kind that you left

as you ran from this room.


S o o n....

a lady with jazzy

blue eyes comes to me

claiming she's heard it all....

offers me company,

I query her name...

she just sighs, "Melody."


Two more

cigarettes lit up...

smoulder side by side

the smoke intermingles

but it fails to hide

my needs left denied.


More drinks and some small talk,

then we're both outside

and it looks like I'm in

for another long ride.


Now my cigarette smoulders

by a bed...burning low

snuggled together

in its softly lit glow

after Melody's played

a duet we both know .


In the morning

with a New Port I'll quietly go

leaving tracks of depression

in the fresh fallen snow.


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